


Hickeys

by missbip0lar



Category: Supernatural
Genre: I Don't Even Know, M/M, Mention of Possible Past Non-Con, jealous!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-31
Updated: 2013-08-31
Packaged: 2017-12-25 04:30:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/948648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbip0lar/pseuds/missbip0lar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas finally returns to the Men of Letters bunker covered in hickeys. Dean is pissy and jealous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hickeys

**Author's Note:**

> For a friend on tumblr.

When Cas finally shows up at the batcave an entire three weeks after Dean and Sam watched angels fall from the sky, he looks fucking homeless. He's wearing the ugliest sweater Dean's ever seen, never mind that it's damn near eighty degrees outside, and he smells like he hasn't taken a shower the entire time he's been away. Dean ushers him inside without a word, and Cas looks as though he's torn between awaiting the verbal lashing Dean has in store for him and bursting at the seams to tell all of them glorious tales of his travels across the continental US.

For a few tense moments, the two of them just stand there in the library staring at each other, before Kevin comes in and saves them both, waving his hand in front of his nose and saying, "Dude, you really need a shower."

Cas blinks a few times, squints at Kevin and tilts his head, and Dean can't hide the small, stupid smile playing at the corners of his mouth because _damn,_ did he miss that. He clears his throat, tells Cas, "The kid's right, you smell like a decomposing corpse."

"And you need different clothes," Kevin adds. "That sweater is hideous. Are those... cats?"

"I happen to be fond of this sweater," Cas says stiffly, but he pulls it off over his head anyway.

"Cas..." Sam says cautiously. "Am I seeing things or do you have... hickeys all over your chest?"

Dean's heart sinks into his stomach, because Sam is right. Cas' neck, shoulders, and chest are all covered in dark, reddish-purple marks that look like they could have been left there by a fucking squid they're so huge.

"Well... yes," Castiel says, like it doesn't even fucking matter; like the three of them haven't had every goddamn person in the hunting community searching for Cas while the guy's been getting his chest sucked on by someone with fuckin' Mick Jagger lips.

Dean is seeing red and it is taking every ounce of self-control he has to not demand what Cas has been doing - and with who - for the past three weeks.

"Just go take a goddamn shower, Cas, and we'll discuss it when you don't smell like rotten milk."

Cas looks confused, then dejected, and then he turns away to walk toward the bathroom.

And that's when Dean sees the hickeys that litter the fallen angel's back, as well. They're _everywhere_ \- up by his shoulder blades, on the back of his neck, even peeking out above the (very low) waistband of Cas' too-big slacks.

Kevin's mouth is hanging open in bewilderment, Sam is clearly trying to suppress a laugh, and Dean is practically _boiling_ with rage and he doesn't know why.

Once they hear the bathroom door close, Sam opens his mouth to make some sort of smart-ass remark, but Dean cuts him off.

"Don't," he says. "Don't say anything. So the guy finally got laid. Big fuckin' deal."

"I wasn't going to," his brother tells him. "I was just going to say that you should go talk to him."

"What, so I can see where else he's hiding gigantic hickeys? No thanks."

"No, Dean, so you can find out if he's okay," Sam says, as if that had been obvious. "I mean, there's a chance that there were some, uh, _consent issues._ As far as I know he's never been with anyone like that before now."

"So why do I have to talk to him?" Dean asks, and he can tell he sounds like a petulant little kid, but he's to the point now where he doesn't care.

He's pissed that Cas would leave them hanging this long and for what? A sweaty romp with some dude sporting a Steven Tyler-sized mouth? Fuck that. There's no way there were any _consent issues_ like Sam would like to believe. If anyone touched Cas in a way he didn't want, there sure as hell wouldn't be a hundred hickeys all over the guy, and he wouldn't have acted as nonchalant about it as he had. Moreover, Mr. Tentacle Lips probably wouldn't have survived the encounter anyway.

"Dean?" Cas calls from the bathroom. "I seem to be having trouble adjusting the water temperature."

Dean huffs and rolls his eyes, but goes to help Cas anyway. He knocks on the bathroom door and Cas cracks it open, steam billowing out from inside. Castiel is standing naked beside the shower when Dean enters the bathroom. There's so much steam that he's having trouble seeing, but he's gotten to the point where he knows the bunker's bathroom well enough to be able to maneuver his way across the floor to the shower, open the shower stall, and adjust the temperature to something more "shower" and less "Mordor."

"It seems as though something is... what's the term... eating you, Dean," Cas states, and Dean's trying not to look at him too closely, trying not to see all the marks or the finger-shaped bruises in Cas' hips. "What's wrong?"

"Nothin'," Dean grunts, and he hopes that's the end of it because he _really_ doesn't want to have this conversation now, while his friend is butt naked and absolutely covered in precisely what's wrong. "Tell me somethin', though, Cas. All this," he says, gesturing at Castiel's shoulders and chest and hips and thighs, " _please_ tell me it was consensual."

"Of course, Dean," Castiel smiles. "It was actually quite enjoyable."

"Good." Dean plasters on his best fake smile, the one normally reserved for Sam, for telling him _Nah, man, everything's a-okay and I'm not worried about Cas at all_ when in reality he'd been worried sick that Metatron had killed him - or worse, that he'd done it himself.

The past three weeks had been full of revelations Dean wasn't so sure he'd been ready for at the time, but he'd made peace with his slightly less-than-platonic feelings for the friend he'd assumed was dead.

And now Castiel has the fucking _nerve_ to show up here covered in someone else's hickeys.

"He was very attractive," Cas goes on. 

"Just get in the damn shower," Dean snaps, pushing Cas through the door of the shower stall and under the spray of water. 

Just as Dean goes to turn the knob on the door separating the bathroom from the hall, Cas asks him to stay. He's really considering telling Cas to fuck off, because he all but begged Cas to stay, to not go to Heaven to try and stop Metatron; he told Cas _I need you_ in that musty smelling crypt with his face practically shattered, but still Cas didn't stay. But instead of leaving, Dean takes the high road and stays in the bathroom while Cas finishes his shower.

"Are you hurt?" he asks quietly.

"I'm not," Castiel replies.

"Were you safe?"

"I'm afraid I'm not entirely sure what you mean," Cas admits as he scrubs his hair.

Dean sighs. "Did you make the guy wear a damn condom?"

"I didn't have to _make_ him do anything, Dean," Cas assures him. "He was prepared."

"Who..." Dean doesn't even want to ask. "Who was he?"

"Just some guy I met at a bar in Texas."

"Do you even remember his name?" Dean asks through grit teeth.

Cas seems to think on it for a few minutes before answering. "Mark, maybe? Matt? I'm not completely sure, but I think it started with an M."

Dean can feel a headache coming on. "Look, Cas, anonymous sex isn't always safe, okay? If you're gonna keep having sex you should probably stick to people you know or something."

"You mean like you or Sam?" Cas asks incredulously.

"God, no, not Sam." _I'd have to fucking kill him,_ Dean adds silently.

"...But you are an option?" Castiel asks as he shuts the water off and opens the glass door of the shower.

The flush rising to Dean's cheeks has nothing to do with the heat in the bathroom or the steam fogging up the mirrors, and he hastily hands Cas a towel in the hopes he'll cover up. Cas' mouth quirks up a little at the corners as he watches Dean get all flustered and embarrassed.

"I'm gonna go find you some clothes," Dean mumbles, scurrying out of the bathroom. 

"Dean?" Castiel says just before Dean closes the bathroom door. Dean pauses. "If it's any consolation, I would have rather it been you instead of _some guy I met in a bar in Texas._ "

And just like that, Dean's rage simmers to slight annoyance and he steps back inside the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him.

All things considered, Cas looks damn good covered in hickeys, and Dean wouldn't mind adding a few (hundred) to the current collection.


End file.
